


We Dug Coal Together

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Justified
Genre: Art is a tired parent of three children, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Protective Raylan Givens, Tim needs a hug, Understanding, but he'd never ask, lots of explosives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Tim finds out why exactly it is that Raylan will put his life in Boyd's hands, and in doing so, puts his life in Raylan's.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, peoples.

Tim is in trouble, and he knows it. 

It had all been fine, at first. But, of course, someone had to get out the guns while he was hot on the trail of his fugitive. While he was distracted, someone had knocked him over the head, which brought him to where he is now. 

AKA, the trunk of a moving car.

Not his favorite place to be, by any means, but it’s not as if he has a choice. 

He’d called for back-up, so he can only hope Raylan is hot on the trail by now. Guy may be an arrogant asshole, but he knows Harlan. More than that, he knows how to get what he wants in Harlan. 

Raylan has a way with people. A violent way, but a way all the same.

Tim winces as the vehicle hits a bump. Apparently, not kicking a man while he’s down would be too much to ask for. As it is, his shoulders and back are plenty achy already, and he suspects the day is just beginning. 

He grimaces, trying to stretch out as much as he can. His bound feet and wrists along with the small trunk space don’t help. Tim lets his head drop against the carpet of the trunk, his head pounding. Whatever they hit him with,  it packed a punch. 

On a normal day, he might be more worried about the confined space, but whatever’s waiting for him at the end of the road has his full attention.

He waits, ever-so patiently.

Muffled voices drift his way from the front of the car, but they’re too low to make anything out. They take a corner faster than they likely should, Tim grunting as he’s tossed to one side of the trunk. Sharp and painful, the zip-tie digs into his wrists. Unfortunately, adjusting isn’t an option since the plastic tie seems to be looped through his belt. He hadn’t even thought to check.

His spine presses uncomfortably against something on the floor, another grimace tugging at his lips. 

The vehicle rolls to a stop, the man on the brakes none too gentle. They share a good laugh, which he can only assume is because they know they’re knocking him around. 

One of them opens the trunk – to be called Idiot #1 - , pulling Tim forwards by his jacket. A fist rams into his temple, dazing him enough to get him out of the car without issue. Tim does a headcount as he’s hefted over the man’s shoulder, everything a bit blurred, but clear enough for the time being. 

Three guys. The one carrying him has a limp, and not because of the added weight. 

He’s dropped on the ground and he gives himself a shake to get his bearing. It’s dizzying, but he gets the idea of a cave. 

“Where are we?”

“We are standing, or in your case, sitting, at the edge of the  Cultek mineshaft.”

Tim tilts his head back, sighing at the ceiling. “Let me guess. You’re  gonna shoot me n’ drop me in the hole? Not a bad plan, ‘cept I called backup before you idiots grabbed me.”

Idiot #2 scoffs. “Doesn’t matter. I doubt they’ll find you before you’re dead.”

The third man, who also looks a lot like Tim’s target, drags him closer to the edge. He lets Tim overbalance a little, snickering as he gets a good look down the mineshaft. 

“Don’t you worry, Deputy. The fall will  probably kill you.”

Tim doesn’t have time for a quippy response before they kick him over for real. He doesn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream, but he can’t help the rough gasp of fear as weightlessness hits his gut. 

He hits the ground, and the world goes dark.

*******

Tim comes around with an agonized grunt, taking panicked and shallow breaths. His chest hurts, and so does his left shoulder. And his back.... 

Everything hurts. He’ll just leave the summary at that until he can tell the difference between broken and achy. The only things he can distinguish otherwise are cold and darkness. Well, there is also the oppressive quiet. 

Completely alone.

Fun. 

Tim shifts, choking back a pained noise and grinding his teeth together. Dust from the ground sticks to his face and he wonders if the liquid holding it there is sweat or blood. 

He figures on blood just to be safe.

Taking a calming breath, Tim calls on his battered body to move. He swears a blue streak as he adjusts his position, craning backwards to reach the knife in his boot. And  _ shit _ , if that isn’t a stretch. He’s never considered himself the most flexible person, and that was before falling down a mineshaft. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to be the most flexible person – just flexible enough to reach the top of his boot. 

He doesn’t realize it, but he’s in tears by the time he reaches it. His shoulders spasm and twitch, the one he’s  lying on crying as if he were being stabbed. His spine pinches with pain, his rib cage feeling too small. He gasps from air, straightening as much as he can. 

Tim is forced to lay still for a few minutes while the torment subsides, panting. He presses his face into the ground. The quiet groans that leave him are completely unintentional.

This is why Tim avoids Harlan when he’s by himself.

What has the world come to that he’s missing Raylan Givens? Figures. The one time he could use the guy’s help, he’s nowhere to be found.

Once he’s certain he’ll be able to move without bursting into manly tears, he starts cutting at the zip-tie around his wrists. No matter how he moves, his shoulder is upset, and he’s starting to wonder just how bad it will be once he has to start moving it. 

Tim hisses when the tie breaks, dragging his injured arm out from underneath his body with a strained moan. He curses under his breath, hissing and spitting the whole way. 

He tilts onto his back, a triumphant and pained laugh slipping out of his mouth. 

When he feels up to moving again, he works his way back until he feels a way, using it to help him sit up. The knife in his hand moves immediately towards his feet, sending a prick of pain across his back, but not otherwise upsetting him. Even if it did upset, him, Tim would ignore it. 

With his feet free, he takes his time to breathe and take account of himself. 

It’s not as bad as he thought, the throbbing dying down. His shoulder is still on fire, which means he’s definitely going to have to set it if he plans to get out of here. His back still hurts, but he’s feeling bruises, not breaks. His arm protected his ribs, so they’re only achy. If not broken, he’d guess his forearm is fractured, though.

Tim sighs, deciding it’s about time he sees something. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing his penlight. As suspected, the only way out is up, and there’s no way he’s getting up there without both arms. 

He gets up, moving with a grimace as he puts weight on his side. He takes a very casual, very painful, stroll to the nearest support beam. He takes a second, trying to remember exactly what the doctors had done when he needed it reset the last time. 

“Well, this is going to suck.” he mutters. 

With another thought, he wrenches his shoulder back into place. It is absolutely nothing like having it done in a hospital.

The...  _ flowery _ language accompanying the procedure is certainly different.

Tim brushes his hair back, pulling at the end as if it’ll ease the  torture he calls his own body. 

He limps around the space, trying to see if he can find anything useful. The problem is that he doesn’t really know what the useful things look like, and he’s certainly not finding out without his phone or, at the very least, an instruction manual. 

The ranger groans, sliding back down the wall and opening his jacket. The hidden inner pocket very graciously rewards him with a tiny package of beef jerky and a cheese stick. 

He’s appreciative of his own  genius , even if the jerky is a little old. 

Sighing, he swipes a sleeve against his forehead, putting his food down long enough to see at what the action produces. Blood and sweat, it looks like. 

Staring up the mineshaft, Tim prays for a rescue. He’ll figure out if he can climb after a nap, but his life would be simpler if someone just showed up. After dealing with Raylan, it can’t be too much to ask. Still, all the things that happen in Harlan, he bets the county has it out for him – as if being born in Harlan is the only way a person is allowed to enter.

Tim wouldn’t be surprised. Nothing ever happens to him when Raylan is around, but outside his reach, everything converges on him. 

With the less-than comforting thought in mind, he drifts off into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

Raylan has an idea. 

It’s not a good one, but he has one nonetheless. 

“Raylan, do you have any clue where Tim might’ve gone? Or do you just plan to guess and check until you’ve got the right place?” 

“His truck was in Elkhorn, but he was supposed to go the Harlan two days ago to pick up his fugitive. I’ll give you three guesses as to what I think happened. And no, none of the guesses can be that he took a vacation.” 

Art sighs. “He’s been kidnapped.” 

Raylan clicks his tongue, dropping his hat on his head. “Something like that.” 

He hefts a large duffle over his shoulder, heading for the door. 

The chief squints at him with suspicion. “See, now I’m nervous. The whole time you’ve been here, you’ve brought nothing but a hat, gun, and your sorry excuse for charm. What’s in the bag?” 

“Let’s say tequila and leave it at that.” 

Art frowns. “You don’t drink tequila.” 

Raylan shakes his head, leaning against the door to let himself out. He doesn’t have time to waste if what he thinks happened actually did. Despite his idea on what happened, he knows Tim is still alive. Hopefully, his bag of tricks will help keep him that way. 

He drives two hours up to Harlan, pondering the many places they might’ve taken Tim. Peering down at the address on his phone to make sure it’s right, he pulls up to the proper house. 

Raylan doesn’t think he’d actually call it a house, but thankfully, he doesn’t plan to go inside. 

He simply takes account of the mineshafts he remembers and picks the closest one. They knew to dump his truck somewhere else, but convenience is generally what criminals go for after they’ve kidnapped an officer of the law. 

When there aren’t any signs of activity at the first, he moves on to the next mineshaft. It doesn’t bode well, but he’ll look around as many mines as he has to in order to find Tim. 

Footprints and drag marks line the dirt around the entrance to the next mine. 

“Bingo.” 

Raylan pulls rope out of his backseat and slings it over his shoulder, the big duffle following closely behind. 

He calls down the hole, yawning darkness swallowing his words. Even without an answer, the evidence of someone being dumped over the edge is right in front of him. The problem is that he can’t tell how recent the marks are. He’ll have to hold off phoning Art until he knows for sure. 

“Just hold on, Gutterson.” 

He finds a spot to tie off, fashioning a makeshift harness around himself and making his way over the edge. Raylan makes a conscious effort to ignore the cold emptiness of the mine, focusing solely on getting his partner back. 

The hat-wearing marshal just hopes he’s not wrong. 

Raylan drops a rock down below him, a relieved breath leaving his lungs when it doesn’t take long to hit the bottom. The air is close, and he’s ready to get out. 

There’s a sharp chopping noise above him, and then he’s in freefall. A yelp of surprise leaves his mouth. 

He lands on his back, the duffle cushioning his fall enough so he doesn’t hit his head. He blinks up at the top of the mineshaft in confusion. Laughter answers his unspoken question. 

It’s with a dreadful certainty he realizes they were waiting for someone to come rescue Tim. 

“You don’t get in trouble by halves, do ya’, kid?” 

No answer, but maybe he shouldn’t have been expecting one. 

Raylan gets up, opening his duffle and grabbing the flashlight off the top. He’s grateful for the wide beam. He does a full turn, lifting his gaze to the main shaft and realizing they won’t be coming back the way they came. Not without help. 

He pauses, closing his eyes and holding his breath to see if he can hear something, _anything_ , that indicates his partner is nearby. 

Quiet breathing. 

Raylan moves forwards, finding Tim a segment over. He has his coat draped over his front. Tim’s brow is furrowed, even in sleep. Raylan briefly wonders if he’s in any pain before he moves to wake him up. 

“Tim?” 

He stirs with groggy eyes, tilting his head enough for Raylan to see the dried blood on his face and in his hair. “Raylan? What are you doing here?” 

“Well, I figured I’d stop by and rescue you, but I can leave if you want.” 

Tim perks up. “You have a way out?” 

Raylan offers a weak chuckle. “It’s not a fun way. I was going to use rope, but the guys who dropped you down here cut it from the top. I fell the rest of the way. Oh, hold on.” He reaches into his back pocket for his phone only to find it shattered. “Shit.” 

“Figures.” He eyes Raylan. “What’s your alternative?” 

The hat-wearing marshal gets Tim to his feet, keeping an eye on his partner when he notes how slow Tim is moving. He crouches down next to his duffle, shining a light on the Emulex he pulls out a stick at a time. He also hands Tim a bottle of water, the ranger taking it with a quiet offering of thanks. 

“How did you know to bring this stuff?” 

Raylan shakes his head, spotting his hat lying a few feet away. “On the off chance something like this happened. I swore I’d never set foot in a mine without being ready for every possibility, so....” He hefts a thick bunch of cord from the bag. “Here we are.” 

Tim slides down the wall, nursing his water with care. “So, you brought a bag of explosives.” 

“And aren’t you glad I did?” 

The ranger chuckles softly, smiling at the eccentric marshal. “I am. I’m just wondering where you got all this Emulex. Doesn’t seem like something they sell at the convenience store.” 

“If Boyd doesn’t think I know where he hides his old supplies, he’s wrong.” 

Raylan heads down the tunnel again, leaving Tim at his spot to wait. He watches the flashlight beam with concern, the other marshal seemingly looking for something. His feet scuff against the ground, as if seeking weak spots. Eventually, he walks around a corner and disappears. 

Tim wonders how close this is to Raylan’s worst nightmare. 

“Found the end wall.” Raylan calls. His voice bounces off the walls. 

“Okay?” 

“We’ll start here. We can’t go up too sharply without risking a cave-in, but it should only take us a couple days to get through to the top.” 

Tim tries not to sound disappointed. Raylan is doing the best he can. “Days?” 

Raylan wanders back into sight, appearing at ease, but still stiff. “Yeah. Not much I’ll be able to do about the time frame, but I should have enough supplies.” 

He opens a side pocket, pulling out a sandwich and crawling over to Tim. “Here.” 

Tim accepts it, digging in without hesitation. He’s still hungry after, but it’s better than an empty stomach. “Thanks.” 

He’s about to ask how much water they have when Raylan pulls a pair of blankets from the bag. He’s heard of being prepared before, but this is downright creepy. 

“Startin’ to think you were in on this. You’re awful ready for a slumber party.” 

Raylan’s eyes are intense when he meets Tim’s. He’s a different person now, those eyes harder and a little more cautious. “I told you I was going to be ready for everything, and if that means avoiding freezing to death in a mineshaft, it means avoiding freezing to death in a mineshaft.” 

Tim goes silent, watching his partner as he gets set up. 

“I know you weren’t exactly bomb squad in the army, but I trust you know what to do with a stick of Emulex and detonation cord?” 

The ranger nods. “No problem.” 

“Good. Come with me.” 

Raylan tosses his hat into the duffle bag and wades into the darkness with his flashlight. 


	3. Chapter 3

Raylan is quiet.

Not exactly something Tim finds comforting.

He’s showing Tim how to set up the charges, angling them just right and running a ten-foot length of cord to blow them up. The mindset he’s in is so unlike the Raylan he knows from work, and it’s honestly starting to freak him out a bit.

“Are you okay?”

Raylan ensures his lines are secure before flicking out his lighter. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who fell all the way down this damn mineshaft.”

So, he’s nervous. That would explain it.

“True enough.”

The hat-wearing marshal pauses. “So, are you? I know you were limping on the way over here.”

“I’m okay enough to run away from explosives.”

Raylan bobs his head, crouching down next to the line. His lighter ignites on the first strike. “Good. We’re going to be doing a lot of that. Just make sure to tell me if it gets too bad.”

The ranger figures that last bit is optional. He’s not about to make Raylan do all the work.

“Fire in the hole!”

Both of them sprint away, heading back to the main shaft and turning the corner. They press against the wall, Raylan swooping one of the blankets overtop of them.

The explosion is loud.

When  it’s over, Tim’s left hand is gripping Raylan’s jacket, his face pressed against the other man’s chest. His breaths are the calming sort, steady but panicked. It takes a moment for Raylan to realize he’s doing the same thing. He brings his right hand up to the soldier’s head, protecting the younger man from whatever is going on inside. 

“ _ It’s okay, Tim. It’s okay. _ ”

Tim eventually nods, letting go. Raylan lowers the blanket, coughing in the dust. He shoots to his feet, stumbling down the mineshaft in the other direction. His partner doesn’t know why until he hears Raylan throwing up.

He returns in short order, moving back down to the end wall with Tim in tow. They set up for the next blast, following the same procedure as before. 

“Fire in the hole!”

They run. 

Tim calms over time, but he’s still uneasy. After the seventh charge, Raylan runs back down the shaft without saying Boyd’s line. Tim wonders why, but he runs anyway. 

“Come on, Tim. Say it. It’ll make you feel better.”

“What?”

Raylan chuckles. “We’ve got about ten seconds. Come on. I promise, it helps.”

“Seriuosly?”

“Yep. Come on, buddy.”

Tim rolls his eyes, feeling like an idiot for even considering it. He isn’t sure why Raylan wants to change things up, since he’s not a mind reader. He mutters the words, more than a little half-hearted.

The charges explode. 

The next time is the same way, Raylan trying to convince him simply saying a phrase will help. Sadly, Tim can think of times he’s done weirder things to get over his fears. He may as well just do it.

“Fire in the hole!”

Raylan lets out a whoop, bringing the blanket up over their heads as the world around them shakes. Tim laughs, Raylan joining him without a second thought.

The blasts almost become exciting instead of terrifying. Almost.

They stay huddled together after the tenth charge, panting and exhausted. Tim’s entire body aches, and he can barely keep his eyes open. All the explosion that should have woke him up for the next century are putting him to sleep instead. 

Tim winds down after another hour, shivering in cold-sweat and the damp of the mine. The tension leaves his back and shoulders, though. “It’s freezing.”

“I know.”

“Nothing in your mysterious duffle for that?”

Raylan snags the second blanket, tossing the sweat-soaked one aside. “How about a dry blanket? Supposed that’ll do the trick?”

Tim shakes his head. “Doubt it.”

“It’ll help.”

Maybe he wouldn’t have before, but this time, Tim believe him. He curls closer to Raylan, the other man hesitating, but letting him get closer anyway. On a normal day, it might be uncomfortable, but this is not that day.

“You know.... I think I get it now.”

“What?”

Tim coughs, his throat dry as a desert. Raylan rubs his arm as the fit persists, supporting him when the effort leaves him trembling. “Why you’re willing to trust Boyd when it counts. I get it.”

“It’s not like I want to.”

“We know. You hate having to do it, but you will.”

Raylan sighs. “There’s a cost to everything, and if dealing with Boyd for a few hours from time to time is one of those costs, I’ll deal. Aces high and jokers wild.”

Tim barely has the energy to laugh. His partner can tell he’s in more pain than he lets on.

The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, absorbing the other’s warmth as much as possible. Tim knows Raylan will tire of the quiet before either of them get to sleep, so he waits for the inevitable moment when Raylan opens his mouth. It takes longer than he expected.

“You ever hear of old mining songs?”

“Nope.”

“You want to?”

Tim lets his head drop down onto Raylan’s shoulder with a good-natured huff. He wouldn’t complain, but he has to be consistent otherwise Raylan will think he’s going soft. “I don’t got a choice, do I?”

“No, you do not.”

“Asshole.”

Raylan laughs, reaching towards his duffle and grabbing his hat. He tips it low on his face, a grin forming on his lips. “Oh, come on. You’ve earned it.”

“Fine. Fire away.”

Tim expected Raylan to start saying the words like a regular human, not for the man to start  _ singing _ .

He supposes he should’ve guessed. 

> “ _ Old coal, take me home _
> 
> _ Down to the river where the water don’t run. _
> 
> _ Old coal, take me home _
> 
> _ Down to the holler where there  _ _ ain’t _ _ no sun. _
> 
> _ Old souls, inky souls _
> 
> _ The heart o’ Harlan County is the coal.” _

He’s about to continue when Tim cuts in. “Aw, shit. Isn’t this what you hum when you’re sittin’ at your desk? I swear, I hear you  singin ’ this at least three times a day.”

__ Raylan blinks. “I do that out loud?”

Tim smirks, snickering under his breath. “Yeah.”

The older man grimaces, lifting a hand to press his hat more fully on his head. He seems exasperated, or maybe angry, with himself. Tim isn’t sure which, but he doesn’t seem to be happy about it. 

“Least now I know where it’s  comin ’ from.”

“I suppose, there is that.” Raylan hums, adjusting his position a little when Tim shifts closer. “You should try to get some sleep, all right?”

Tim makes an inquisitive noise. “What are you gonna do?”

Raylan chuckles. “My absolute best to try and do the same, but I sincerely doubt that’ll happen, so I’ll probably be keepin’ my eye on you.” 

“You do realize I could kill you six different ways from this position alone?”

“Yep. Now, get some sleep.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Holy shit, you’re on fire!” 

Raylan lifts his arm, making a face as the smoking patch on his sleeve. “Huh. Would you look at that? Spent years in a mine without catching fire, and yet, here we are.” 

Tim, calmed by Raylan’s nonplussed reaction, watches him bat the flame with amusement. “Guess you’re out of practice, old man.” 

“Shut up. You just don’t have as much fun as me.” 

“Fun? You mean, I don’t get shot at as much because I do my job?” 

Raylan pushes back the dust-covered blanket, shaking his head. “Hey, I do my job. My version of it just involves more... excitement.” 

“You ever think maybe I left the army and joined the marshal service ‘cause I wanted a more peaceful life?” 

“Peaceful?” 

“Okay, less life-threatening, but no less important.” 

Raylan glowers. “Please. Admit it, kid. Your life would be very boring without me in the office to make what little remains of Art’s hair turn gray.” 

“Oh, so you know you do that?” 

He gets up to start setting up the next round of charges, crawling into the tunnel they’ve made with a grunt of effort. He has to slide forward carefully. “It’s not a, uh, conscious effort, but yes, I am aware. You think I don't – ow! – comprehend the sheer number of times I get called to his office in a week?” 

Tim would think he was apologetic if it weren’t for the grin he can just _hear_ in Raylan’s voice. 

He brings the cord to Raylan, frowning as the amount leftover when they tie off the current batch. Tim shows it to Raylan as the other man wriggles out of the tunnel. “Runnin’ kinda low here. Is, uh, that a problem?” 

Raylan hums, tilting his head as he calculates. “Shouldn’t be. Even if it is, we’ll figure something out.” 

“Do you have spare cord, or what?” 

“No, but this is a mineshaft, Tim. Don’t you think there would be backups?” 

Tim makes a vaguely confused gesture, his brow furrowing. “Oh, and of course, you know exactly where to find them. Seems like a long shot to me.” 

“Wellll, I wouldn’t say I know _exactly_ where to find them, but I’ve got a pretty good guess.” 

“Then, what happens if, say, they’ve cleared the place out?” 

Raylan inclines his head, giving Tim that look he always gives Art – the one that says ‘I’m an asshole, but I know something you don’t.’ “Ain’t nothin’ ever cleared out in a mineshaft.” 

The ranger contains himself, graciously refraining from punching his partner in the face by donning his practiced blank expression. 

Raylan pauses. “You want to hit me, don’t you?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Tim’s tone is flat, giving away nothing. The other marshal blinks. “See, I can never tell if you’re serious or not when you look at people like that.” 

“Guess.” 

“Eh, no thanks. Come on. We’ve got explosions to make.” 

The ranger barely resists laughter. “Sure, sure. This kinda thing gets me all sorts of excited.” 

Raylan is used to his jokes by now, so he’s relatively unconcerned. Making people uncomfortable is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes, and both of them know it. “Well.... We’ve both been warned. Again.” 

“We sure have.” 

“Oh, god. Come on, let’s just get this over with.” 

Tim shoots him a mock-hurt look. “Well, damn. You sure do know how to let a girl down easy, don’t ya’? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were _trying_ to hurt my feelings.” 

“You know it, pal.” 

The ranger lights the line. “Fire in the hole!” 

They run for their usual spot, Tim panting and exhausted. Raylan grabs the corner of his jacket. “Come on. We’ll take a break after this, but we gotta run.” 

“Yeah.” 

Raylan covers them with the blanket. The smoke clears just like usual, but Tim has stiffened up again. He realizes that the meager amount of cord remaining has his partner worried, and the jokes are just the way he’s coping for the moment. 

Well, at least that’s a problem he can solve right away. 

“Come with me, buddy.” 

“Huh? Thought we was takin’ a break, Mr. Miner.” 

The hat-wearing marshal dips his head. “Yeah, I did, but I’m thinking we’d better take a minute to check out this cord problem first.” 

“Thought you said there wasn’t a problem.” 

“There isn’t, and I’m gonna show you why. Come on.” 

Raylan leads the skeptical ranger around the tunnels, pulling at boards on the floor or panels along the wall with practiced hands. It’s not the first time he’s had to scavenge, but never in a mine this old. Tim is marking the corridors, but Raylan isn’t lost. Not in any way shape or form is he lost. 

He finds what he’s looking for three segments over. 

“There you are, beautiful.” 

“Okay. You got me. I’m impressed.” 

Raylan grins, bestowing his gift. Situation diffused. Tim is calmed down again, and they won’t be running out of line anytime soon. “And you doubted me.” 

“Fine. Bask in your glory, or whatever. Let’s go blow some stuff up.” 

“No, no. We’re resting. I promised you a break, and you’re eating a sandwich.” 

Tim agrees, carrying the cord like a treasure. Not in an obvious way, but still. 

The two of them settle down to take their break, sitting on opposite sides of the main shaft. Tim has a pair of water bottles next to his knees, his sandwich resting on his thigh as he chews on the cheese sticks Raylan brought. He hadn’t realized the other man was paying attention to his stakeout food, but he’s grateful all the same. 

“Come on, kid. Naptime.” 

Tim picks up his food, scooting across the floor until he’s next to Raylan. He finishes his meal and finishes off the first bottle of water. “Yeah, fine. Whatever you say, _Dad_.” 

“Well, you’re more cooperative than most kids I’ve ever heard of. You’ll get a gold star.” 

The ranger chuckles. “Oh, yeah? I get to tell Art about this gold star I earned while blowing a hole in a mineshaft, or am I supposed to say I earned it for saying my ABCs?” 

“I don’t know. You pick.” 

“Cool.” 

Raylan pulls the clean blanket over them, catching his partner rubbing his left shoulder with a grimace. Probably thought he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he’s hiding it at all brings a worry over Raylan, but the soldier before him would never admit to weakness. 

Tim drifts off, leaving Raylan to wonder what else his partner isn’t telling him about. 

“Whatever’s up, kid, you don’t tell me tomorrow, I’ll sick Rachel and Winona on you.” he mutters. No matter what anyone says, he’ll fear both of those women until the day he dies. 

Morning is a long time coming, but Raylan stays awake. 

Tim rouses with a groan, wincing and stiffening. He cuts off a grunt when he straightens. 

“Tim?” 

“I’m good.” 

Raylan shakes his head. “Right. We’ll pretend I believe that. Now, though, you’re going to start heading back here before I’m lighting the line. I won’t have you ending up dead because you’re trying to prove something.” He shifts positions to crouch in front of the ranger. “You don’t have anything to prove. You’re capable, but I won’t have you getting hurt. Not more than you already are.” 

Tim takes a moment to absorb the information, but he eventually nods. “Okay.” 

Five charges is all it takes. Tim looks awful, all pale skin and sweat. Raylan climbs to the end and starts digging out dirt and grass from the last few feet, a wide smile spreading on his face when he feels the wind. 

He wriggles down the hole. “We’re out.” 

Tim coughs, swiping at his forehead and walking back. It’s not quite the reaction Raylan was looking for, but it’ll do. Raylan pushes his remaining supplies and his hat into the bag, moving Tim towards the hole as quickly as he can manage. 

“Just a bit of climbing. I know you’re in a lot of pain, but just hold on for another few minutes, all right?” 

They drag themselves into the open air. 

Tim lets out a relieved breath, tipping his face into the sunlight. Raylan watches him with worry, the soldier taking a few staggering steps. He’ll admit, despite the accomplishment, he’s not feeling so hot either. 

The ranger goes down. 

Raylan scrambles over, trying to wake him back up without success. He growls to himself, wondering what exactly he’s supposed to do. 

Really, without phones or anyone around, there’s only one thing he can do. 

He hefts Tim up onto his shoulders – the kid should really eat more – and starts walking. Feverish with relief and exhausted, he doesn’t remember much. 


	5. Chapter 5

Tim comes around with a start, his eyes opening to a host of light. He winces, raising a hand to block it. The lights are turned off, but even what’s coming through the window is a bit much. His head is pounding and his body aches.

“Tim?”

He cracks an eye open with caution, finding Art in the chair next to him. The old man leans forward in his seat, wrapping a calloused hand with his. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”

The ranger takes a deep breath, coughing as the pure air enters his lungs. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Shitty.”

Art nods. “Yeah. I thought that might be your answer. Still, though. You’ve been missing for five days, and in Harlan, you may as well be the living dead.”

“You catch the guys?”

The chief sighs, his shoulders slumping in exasperation. “Three days in a cave with Raylan and the first thing you think of outside of being in the hospital is work?”

“Did you catch them?”

“Yes. We did. They’re going away for the attempted murder of two federal marshals and your main guy is adding that to his previous sentence.”

Tim leans back against the pillows, closing his eyes and swallowing. “How did you guys find us?”

“We didn’t.”

“What?”

Art looks worn and worried. “Raylan explained what happened when he woke up. In case it wasn’t implied, he’s fine. Well, actually, he’s on the other side of that curtain right there, sedated.”

Tim opens his eyes again, still grimacing at the light. He hadn’t even realized there was a curtain. 

“You’re sure he’s...?”

“Yes. He’s a tough son of a bitch.”

Tim nods.

“Anyway. Took you guys two and a half days to bust out of a mineshaft with enough Emulex to blow this town to hell and back. Soon as you got out, he said you dropped like a rock.”

The ranger works his jaw, not really remembering what happened aside from the very last ‘Fire in the hole’ and taking cover with Raylan’s protective hand over his head. Somehow, it feels as if he was a burden to Raylan, even if the other man would never say it. Tim can’t help wondering. 

“You remember?”

“No.”

Art squeezes his hand. “He picked you up and carried you to the first safe family he could think of. And don’t worry, he doesn’t remember getting out, either. Don’t think he even knows how far it really was.”

Tim slides back in the bed, his brow furrowing. “How far was it?”

“Three miles. Raylan carried you three miles to safety. Witness account was that he opened the screen and house doors, stumbled inside and dropped you on the couch. The owner told us Raylan looked drunk – said ‘Could you by chance call us an ambulance? The US Marshal Service thanks you’, and passed out on their carpet.”

The soldier can’t help the laugh that leaves his throat. “Sounds like him.”

“Luckily, you both had your badges with you in that duffle, so they ID’d you as ours and gave us a call.”

“He carried the duffle, too?”

Art clicks his tongue, seeming impressed. “Yeah. Still had enough Emulex in it to level a small building. We still can’t figure out where he got it.”

Tim hums. “Not a clue.”

“We actually talked to Boyd, who seemed a little concerned. He gave us a couple ideas about where to start, but he didn’t have a full list of the mineshafts around.”

“You find my truck?”

“Yep. Both yours and Raylan’s vehicles were ditched in towns a couple counties over, likely an effort to throw us off the scent. We knew Harlan was where we needed to be looking anyway. You boys, though.... Scent or no scent, I think you’d have been fine.”

“Thanks to Raylan. By the time he found me, I was pretty much unconscious, but he had that damn duffle with him. I think he’s hiding Narnia in there.”

“News to me.” Art lets go of his hand, patting his knee and getting up. “Well, on the upside, at least I know who to thank for rescuing my best marshal.”

Tim manages a weak chuckle. “He said I’d get a gold star.”

“A what?”

The ranger pulls in a rough breath. “I was being cooperative, knew he had everything under control. Said I’d get a gold star.”

“Son, you already have a gold star.” Art folds his badge into his hand, a warm smile on his face. “But, if you really want a second, I think we can arrange that.”

“Aw.”

Art places a paternal hand on Tim’s head, only a slight bit of hesitance due to the unfamiliar action. He ruffles the young marshal’s hair, walking out the door with one last comment.

“Rachel will be by to yell at you two in an hour, so make sure he’s up for it.”

Tim straightens his hair back out right away, noting the old man pulled back the curtain just enough for him to see Raylan on the other side. He looks different, cleaner, but his face isn’t drawn and his brow isn’t wrinkled. He looks younger.

Sighing, he rubs at his shoulder and works his way back to laying down. He knows he’s on painkillers, but everything still aches. 

Course, if he asked Raylan, the other marshal would just say that means it’s still working. He’s still alive. 

Thanks to Raylan Givens.

Tim realizes the man has an eye cracked open and he’s watching him with a smile. It’s as if he’s reading Tim’s mind, since his smile only grows wider when he starts regretting feeling grateful. 

“Hey, Raylan?”

The other marshal hums. 

“You’re an asshole.”

The eye closes and Raylan lets go of a deep sigh, moving a hand to rest on his stomach. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
